


My Young Angel

by Usedtobehmc



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-09
Updated: 2012-10-09
Packaged: 2017-11-15 23:52:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/533169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Usedtobehmc/pseuds/Usedtobehmc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel feels the last of his grace leave him on a Thursday morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Young Angel

  
  
_Castiel feels the last of his grace leave him on a Thursday morning._  
  
He had aged slightly by then, of course.  Not by much, but there were some grey hairs just above his ears that Dean noticed one day with a smirk.  "Guess the stress of livin' with me has finally caught up."  He had joked.  Castiel decided he liked the grey.    
  
The house was small and humble, as anything else would have been ill-fitted to their tastes.  They had been there three years already, and it had become sufficiently "comfortable" by Dean's standards.  Which meant that it was usually messy, cluttered, but warm and filled with memories.    
  
 _Castiel is outside raking leaves when it happens._  
  
He had an affinity for big sweaters, ones with sleeves that fall over his hands.  Ones with a hem that landed closer to his knees than his waist.  One that could keep him warm on November afternoons while he took long walks.  Dean had bought him a few.  Knowing about his love for oversized sweaters, the hunter had ventured to a "Big 'n' Tall" store to find them.  
  
His favorite one had lapis lazuli blue and sea green in it.  He wore it so often that the elbows are already beginning to thin.  It was only a year old.  It was the one he put on this morning to rake the leaves.  He enjoyed the smells, the colors, the noises the leaves made as they crunched.  He even like how the bare trees looked, their skeletons jagged but beautiful and naked, reaching towards the sky.  He likes the smell of frost and earth and chimney smoke from somewhere down the street.  He especially liked being warm inside his sweater as the temperature dropped around him.  
  
 _Castiel feels the remaining wisp of his grace coil in his lungs and leave through his nostrils and mouth when he breathes out._  
  
It was at this moment that he realized he never quite knew exactly what it was to be human.  Because he had never really *been* a human until this very moment.  Jimmy long gone, resting in the fields of the Lord, it had only been him in this body for years.  He had grown accustomed to it, yes.  Grown to love it.  Grown to feel that he wouldn't be comfortable in any other vessel, even long after he lost the ability to leave it.  As bits and pieces of his angelic abilities began to leave him over time, he had dealt with it as best he could.  Dean had spent many hours comforting him, easing his pain and doing his best to help in a situation he couldn't possibly understand.    
  
It was nothing compared to this.  
  
 _Castiel actually sees his grace fade in the air._    
  
It was smoke-like, like the last puff from a cigarette, only it glowed blue.  Castiel let the rake fall from his limp finger and lifted his hand up.  Wether he intended to close his hand around it and hinder it's escape or simply touch it... he was too late.  The wisp, with a low hum, blinked out of existence.  And then it was gone.    
  
 _Castiel feels alone and small.  And abandoned.  And very, very cold._  
  
************  
  
Dean came home late that night, only slightly bruised but very amped up.  It had been a relatively easy hunt, but just dangerous enough to be challenging and get his blood boiling.  He was in a good mood and was looking forward to telling the story to Cas while he got patched up.  Dropping his duffel bag and leather jacket unceremoniously on the floor, he winced as the sleeve slid over his bloody knuckles.    
  
He ran some cold water over his knuckles as he opened a beer from the fridge and took a long, refreshing swig.  Once he felt enough grit and dirt had been forced from the wound that it wouldn't get infected, he patted it dry with a paper towel and swallowed the last of his beer in a long drag.  Tossing the paper towel and the bottle in the direction of the garbage can, he began his ascent to the bedroom upstairs and had reached the top step when he realized something was wrong.    
  
"Cas?"  He called out gently, in case he was asleep.    
  
No answer, no movement, no grunt of annoyance at being woken up.    
  
A peek through the door confirmed that Castiel was not in bed and a short tour of the house confirmed he wasn't even in it.  Dean started to panic but tried to tamp it down, thoughts flying by at a mile a minute.  He didn't remember them talking about Cas being anywhere else tonight, there were no signs of forced entry, no signs of a struggle.  He was close to calling Sam when he happened to glance out a window into the back yard and saw Cas standing there alone, staring up at the trees.  
  
"Christ, Cas!"  He grumbled as he pulled his coat back on and stomped outside.  "I almost had a heart-attack, couldn't find you anywhere!  What are..."    
  
 _Castiel is crying.  And shivering.  And he doesn't know what to do._  
  
"What happened, Cas?  Hey, look at me."  Waving a hand in front of his face doesn't work, so Dean takes the man's chin in his hand and forces eye-contact.  "What's wrong?"  
  
 _Castiel's eyes are bloodshot and puffy, his face pale and shiny with tear tracks.  They still fall as Castiel tries to speak, trailing down his cheeks and settling in the oversized collar of his sweater._  
  
"M- muh... my.... g-grace..."  he huffs out, struggling to take in another breath.  
  
"Let's go inside huh?  It's twenty degrees out and you're freezing, ya idiot."  There's no malice in the words as Dean pulls Cas away from the pile of leaves and abandoned rake.  
  
************  
  
 _Castiel can't speak anymore; he is exhausted._  
  
Dean only got the basic gist of what his partner was trying to tell him, but it was enough.  Whatever long, drawn-out process took place when an Angel decided to live as a human had ended today.  Castiel had finally, officially joined the human race.  
  
Cas had stopped crying finally, but it had taken an hour of heart-wrenching sobbing before he finally wore himself out.  He loved humans, he did.  He loved humanity and he loved being human... but the devastation of being cut off from his brothers and sisters... the loss he felt that he no longer had a direct line to heaven and The Host or even God, wherever He might be... it felt like his newly-formed soul was being crushed out of existence.    
  
Dean was sleeping behind him, curled up close in what he called "big spoon mode."  Castiel couldn't sleep.    
  
Disentangling himself from Dean's octopus-like hold was easy: the man was dead asleep after a long night of hunting and didn't even flinch at the movement.  Castiel, still in his giant sweater, gently descended the staircase to fix himself some warm tea.  Maybe he would watch his favorite movies until morning.  
  
He turns the corner to the kitchen and stops dead in his tracks.  
  
 _Castiel has seen the face of God for the first time.  God has already fixed him some tea._  
  
************  
  
 _Castiel is overwhelmed with a feeling of peace and light._  
  
He fell to his knees immediately, bending over far enough to rest his head on the floor.  "Father."  He managed to squeak out, though he had no idea where he found the brainpower.  "My... my beloved Holy Father."  He spoke in Enochian and it felt like coming home.    
  
"Castiel," God hummed and approached to lift him from his prostrate position.  "You may look upon me, child.  You will not be harmed."  
  
Castiel lifted his eyes and finally breathed out in awe.    
  
The vessel God had chosen was that of an older man; maybe in his 60's.  Gigantic at 6 feet 4 inches and 300 pounds at least with hair that had gone completely white a long time ago.  He had kind eyes that looked grey but alive behind the simple spectacles, and when he smiled it seemed to fill the room.  The vessel wore respectable, modest clothes and there was a wedding ring on his hand.    
  
God noticed his scrutiny and patted his shoulder gently.  "The Santa Claus look brings comfort, I find, to those few I have spoken to these last few hundred years.  Even those who do not know of Santa Claus seem to enjoy a large, fat gentleman with glasses."   He chuckled and rubbed Castiel's shoulder, reaching for a steaming mug of their best tea and offering it to the stunned human.  As the mug passed hands, Castiel felt love radiating from his Father as well as himself, easing his heartache instantaneously.    
  
"Please, sit.  I want to speak with you briefly.  Then I must go."  God directed him by the elbow to a chair, and sat down across from him.    
  
Cas sipped from the mug and regarded his long-absent father.  "Go?"  
  
God smiled kindly.  "I'm afraid... you would not understand."  
  
Castiel knew that was true.    
  
"I came here tonight to bless you, my young angel."  
  
Castiel couldn't stop a sob from escaping as he put his mug back on the table.  "But I'm... I'm not.  Anymore.  Not an angel.  Nothing."  Burying his face in his hands, he tried to regain his composure lest he offend his heavenly creator, but couldn't stop the emotions from spilling forth.  
  
"Peace, my young angel." God repeated, a simple touch of his hand calming Cas instantly.  "The change within you is proof of your love for my creations.  A sacrifice because you would rather give yourself up than forgo your love for him.  Yes?  Yes.  Do not weep.  I have seen your pain, your suffering."  He paused, and the barest flicker of sadness flashed across his eyes.  "I felt when they cut off your wings."  
  
Castiel looked down at his hands.  Suddenly ashamed, though he could not say why.  "It was... part of my re-education.  To teach me a lesson."    
  
"Unbearably cruel, awful thing it was.  Never part of my plan.  Know this, child.  You have endured much undue pain.  And know this: your place in Heaven is assured.  By my side.  In the fields with your loved ones.  All of them."  He patted Castiel's hand and the former angel felt tears welling up again.    
  
"Thank-you."  His voice sounded small and weak, but relieved as well.  
  
God rose from his chair and Castiel knew He was leaving.    
  
"Rise, my young angel."    
  
Castiel did.  
  
And found himself in a hug.  A great, hulking bear-hug.  The kind of hugs that Bobby used to give.  The kind that the Winchesters gave each other when it had been far too long.  He hugged back, knowing that even if it was not proper, it was right.    
  
God pulled back and held him at arm's length.  "I am afraid that we will not meet again.  Sleep, and know that all is well."  God raised a hand to Castiel's forehead in a blessing.  
  
And the human woke up in Dean's arms.  
  
The little spoon.  
  
It was as if he'd never left the bed.  
  
Dean fussed and twitched, leaning in tighter and re-adjusting himself.  "Y'ok?"  He murmured sleepily.  
  
Castiel breathed out, feeling that the last of his pain and grief was leaving with that breath.  
  
"Yes."  
  
 _Castiel is happy._  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The End


End file.
